Sunflower Dream
by frikadeller
Summary: Short fics centering on Russia & Lithuania.
1. Sunflower Dream

He dreamt of clear blue skies. _Endless without limit._

He dreamt of the hills. _Landscape green without snow._

And he dreamt of Ivan. _Warmth without pretense._

He saw clearly how the tall man's eyes filled with happiness when he waved a few stalks of sunflowers in his hand.

From the path where he stood, he couldn't hear Ivan's voice. He just _knew_ that he wanted him at his side.

A step into the field, leaves and tall flowers brushed against his clothes. Another step and he was completely inside the sea of unending rows of yellow and green and brown. He turned around and saw the small road no longer in his view. He turned back, half expecting to see the other man making his way, moving closer to him.

_Ivan was no longer there._

He clambered forward, trying to reach the place where Ivan was standing not too long ago. The flowers were like a web around him. He shouted Ivan's name, and nobody replied.

He staggered, suddenly losing direction. Surely this wasn't how things supposed to go. In this perfect dream of Ivan, the main character wasn't supposed to be disappearing. He forced his way, kept moving, and his legs stumbled on each other.

Falling to his knees, he covered his face and screamed, still calling for Ivan. What a nightmare, he thought, when his throat was hurting and his voice hoarse. It was perfect when the soil beneath him gave away and he was swallowed into the darkness.

Down, and down, and down...

It felt like an eternity and like an instant at the same time.

He let out a gasp and opened his eyes. The view felt strange and distant, As if he was looking through another person's eyes.

Breathing laboured, he brought a hand to his face. Felt fresh tears on his cheeks.

"Toris?"

He immediately sat upright upon hearing that voice. Ivan's voice. Using the back of his hand, he wiped his tears away hurriedly.

"Why are you crying?"

He looked at those worried purple eyes, that finely sculpted face, the pale sandy strands of hair. And his heart ached, as if it was being wrung hard.

"I-It was nothing. Sorry for waking you up." His voice sounded shaky and he hated it for a second.

Ivan grabbed his hand and pulled him closer. "What kind of bad dream did you see, Toris?" The whisper on his ear felt almost too hot. The arms wrapped him in the vastness of Russia. Hands on his back, and he wanted to believe that Ivan was protecting him.

"No, not a bad dream. It was a good one..." He buried himself in the embrace as tears welled up unconsciously again. If only he could be the one who lessen the pain, if only he could be he one who brings Ivan back. The one who brings the real smile back.

"...It was your dream." And Toris wanted to believe the words he just said.


	2. He Laughed Red

Dead bodies, corpses lied scattered around him, beneath his feet. And the blood that flowed forth didn't just colour the frozen rivers with red. It stained the veins, rooted deep, there forever.

_Oh our great Motherland!_

He tilted his head just a little, saw smokes clouding the sky. Smokes and snow, and cries of the innocents, of the sinners. Oh, how they mixed and mingled to the point that everything became unclear, blurred out.

He cried, softly at first. Tears fell onto the crimson snow.

Without effort to contain himself, the sobs rocked his body and he fell to his knees.

For all the deads, for all the citizens of the country. His children. All of his feelings spilled forth.

And then he began to laugh. The sound shrill. Crazy and maddening. The echo spread over the icy lands of his heart.

He didn't stop even when his voice crackled. Not even when he felt the copper tinge at the back of his throat.

No more, Russia would not cry anymore.

-----note-----

This chapter is done for the Hetalia Kink Meme fill. The prompt was "OP wants to see various countries laughing".


	3. A Drop of Rain

It was cold.

And it was raining. Not yet raining, he thought, just a light drizzle.

Icy droplets fell from the sky. He turned his face to the vastness, clouds swirling in his view. Another drop came down, down and splashed on his cheek. It rolled, as if he was crying.

He was, and was he still crying now?

He wasn't sure before, and still not.

He didn't move when a hand touched his softly. Warm, it felt almost burning in contrast with the cold air.

"Let's get inside. I don't want you to catch a cold, Ivan."

He only smiled, the single drop still on his cheek. Still making him look as if he was crying and smiling at the same time.

He took Toris' hand in his, "Yes, let's go inside."


End file.
